


you got me high so fast

by cosmicwoosan



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Blow Jobs, Boys Kissing, Come Sharing, Frottage, Grinding, Hand Jobs, M/M, Making Out, Marijuana, Recreational Drug Use, Sexual Tension, Shotgunning, Smut, basically 99s minus yeosang, im on some dumb shit idk, jongho is oblivious, joong and hwa are tired, voyeurism sorta, yeosang is incapacitated but he's ok dw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-08
Updated: 2020-05-08
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:14:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24015781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cosmicwoosan/pseuds/cosmicwoosan
Summary: Sometimes, they just like to get lost in wisps of smoke and oceans of each other's lips.or, ateez get high and horny.
Relationships: Choi Jongho/Coffee Table, Choi Jongho/Jeong Yunho, Choi San/Jeong Yunho, Choi San/Jeong Yunho/Jung Wooyoung, Choi San/Jeong Yunho/Song Mingi, Choi San/Jung Wooyoung, Choi San/Jung Wooyoung/Song Mingi, Choi San/Song Mingi, Everyone/Everyone, Jeong Yunho/Song Mingi, Jung Wooyoung/Song Mingi, Kang Yeosang/Floor, Kim Hongjoong/Park Seonghwa, Song Mingi/Snacks
Comments: 41
Kudos: 448





	you got me high so fast

**Author's Note:**

  * For [useumssi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/useumssi/gifts).



> yes weed is illegal in sk. no i do not care because this is a work of fiction. this fic was so fucking fun to write and i hope you have just as much fun reading it.
> 
> i have also smoked a total of two (2) times in my lifetime so forgive me for misinformation.
> 
> the pov's kinda all blend into one just so you all know
> 
> and thank you to shan, who let me scream about this fic to her and helped me determine the dynamics. ily <3
> 
> y'all already know where the title is from lol

They have to play rock paper scissors.

What a way to start the night. All of them are stressed, and it’s just fucking perfect that they take up Hongjoong’s suggestion because rock paper scissors is ‘fair.’ It’s stupid, because Yunho unarguably rolls the best joints, but then Wooyoung interjects with, “I’m trying to practice!” and Seonghwa has to argue back, “We can smoke multiple joints, you idiot!” and then all the while, San loses the game first and cradles the bong in the background while six of them argue over who picked rock and who picked scissors.

(It’s poor Yeosang’s first time and they refuse to let him get caught in the crossfire, not to mention none of them have the patience to teach him how to roll a joint tonight.)

They really, really need this.

So while they’re all being children, San takes it upon himself to grind the generous amount of weed Mingi got them because fuck it, it’s all going to be gone by the end of the night. “Uh, Mingi-yah?” San tries over the commotion.

“What is it?” Mingi shouts back.

“Do you know what strain this is?”

“Nope!” And then he goes back to arguing.

San scoffs and lets out a deep, much-needed sigh and grinds the weed to perfection in a solid minute. Unsurprisingly, the game is down to Yunho, that lucky bastard, and Wooyoung, who ends up surrendering because he actually hadn’t bet on winning against Yunho, and as much as Wooyoung wants to ‘practice,’ tonight is just not the night.

They all need to unwind, and they need to do it quickly. Yunho can help accomplish that with his deft joint-rolling hands and marijuana expertise.

They reach a compromise, however, putting Wooyoung in charge of the bong while Mingi is put on snack duty. Knowing them, they’ll probably run out of everything in their cabinets, but none of them could give any less of a fuck.

“What do you want, Yeosang-ah? Joint or bong?” Yunho asks as he meticulously packs the weed onto the paper.

“Um…”

“Bong,” Wooyoung answers for him, earning a scowl from Yunho. “It’s easier.”

“Oh, shut up,” the taller says. “You’re just salty because you didn’t get to roll.”

“I’m just speaking facts. I’ll do everything for him and he won’t have to do anything but inhale.”

“Y-Yeah, sorry, Yunho,” Yeosang says. “I think I’ll just stick to the bong for now.”

“Whatever you want. We’re all getting high in the end anyway.” Yunho pinches the paper between his fingers and pats the weed down, smirking at himself because he just _knows_ Wooyoung is staring him down while he’s busy pouring water into the bong.

Meanwhile, Mingi is rummaging around their cabinets, plucking out every bag of chips and cookies he can find, along with an entire case of water bottles that he drops by Jongho’s side, startling the youngest. “Hey, watch it!”

“Watch your tone; I’m the one who got the weed,” Mingi admonishes with a warning point.

San blinks the tiredness from his eyes as he grinds up more weed for Yunho to pack his joints with. They can’t even get _ready_ for the night without squabbling. The oldest ones are off to the side, watching as their young ones prepare because it’s not like they’re going to be conscious anyway.

“I’m not waiting for you to roll your joints,” Wooyoung says, already packing some of the grinds into the bong’s bowl.

“Then don’t,” Yunho responds, in the middle of rolling his second one.

Scoffing, Wooyoung grabs the bong at the base of the tube. “Watch me, okay?” he says to Yeosang, who nods and watches as Wooyoung puts his mouth in the mouthpiece and inhales. The water bubbles to life, and, flicking the lighter, he holds the flame to the bowl.

“Woohoo! First hit of the night!” Jongho hollers, and Wooyoung has to suppress the urge to cough into the tube and punch him in the face.

“Shut up, Jongho-yah,” San mutters. “Yunho-yah, roll three more so we can stick them in all the holes on his face and get him so high he never speaks again.”

“Don’t test me,” Jongho says. “I will do it. I will see God whilst having two joints up my nostrils.”

“Please don’t,” Seonghwa begs, face contorted as if he’s on the verge of tears or something. It’s not surprising. He probably is.

Fucking finally, Wooyoung completes the first hit once he removes the bowl and inhales the smoke, blowing it up towards the ceiling, earning another obnoxious cheer from the youngest. With lungs made of steel and possible scar tissue, Wooyoung barely coughs as the earthy aroma wafts through the room. “Here,” he says, handing the bong off to Yeosang.

“What do I do?”

“Just inhale. I’ll do everything else for you.”

With a subtle nod, Yeosang sticks his mouth in the hole. “Alright, just inhale.” As the water bubbles, Wooyoung burns the cannabis, watching as the smoke floats up the tube before pulling the bowl from the stem. Yeosang’s body visibly tenses as the smoke enters his mouth, eventually his lungs, before he removes himself from the bong entirely and coughs bloody murder. Jongho, that asshole, laughs at his hyung’s misery.

Rolling his eyes, Wooyoung hands one of their couch pillows to Yeosang. “Cough into this.”

Yeosang doesn’t know how the hell that’s supposed to help, but he does it anyway, allowing the plush pillow to absorb his suffering attempts to expel every foreign substance from his body even though that’s not how it works. It sure feels like that, though.

“Anybody?” Wooyoung asks, holding the bong up and totally ignoring Yeosang’s desperate coughs and tears soaking into the pillow.

“Me,” Seonghwa says pitifully, accepting the bong and lighter from Wooyoung.

“Who wants the first joint?” Yunho asks, holding his first holy creation up for about a second before Hongjoong snatches it. “Never mind.”

It’s actually quite adorable, how the eldests light each other’s cannabis, kind of like how couples like to link their arms when taking a bite of food. That really sappy, unnecessarily cloying gesture that screams “yes, we’re in love,” and it certainly doesn’t help when they attempt a double-sided shotgun, the smoke so thick it practically masks both their faces as they lock lips.

“How cute,” Yunho coos, glancing over at Yeosang, whose coughs have been reduced to uncomfortable throaty noises as he makes grabby hands at the case of water. “You alright over there, Yeo?”

“Ju— _ack!_ —just dandy!” His voice is a mere squeak, probably not so dandy.

“Glad to hear,” Yunho responds, sealing his third joint.

“Are we seriously going to smoke all of that?” Yeosang croaks.

“Maybe not you,” Yunho says, sticking his second one into his mouth, “but we are. One bong hit is probably good enough for you.”

“I don’t think I feel it yet, though,” Yeosang says.

“It’s your first time, not to mention it was a bong hit. You’re gonna feel it in, like, the next few seconds.” Ignoring any of Yeosang’s further decrees, Yunho pulls his own lighter out from his pocket and lights the end of his joint, waiting for the end to burn before inhaling the smoke and blowing it out in a thick, nearly opaque cloud. “Fucking hell, I needed this.”

“We all do,” San says as Yunho hands him the joint. Mingi plops down beside Yunho on the sofa, a container of Oreos perched in his lap, while San takes his first hit and blows the smoke directly up into Mingi’s face.

Mingi frowns and fans the smoke away, eyes screwed shut. “That’s not how you shotgun, Sannie,” he says accusingly.

“Forgive me, I’ve never shotgunned before,” San says.

“Wait, really?” Yunho questions, nudging San with his foot. “Get up here, I’ll show you. It’s fun.”

San has no qualms standing from his cross-legged position on the floor and seating himself on Yunho’s lap, straddling him. He generously sticks the joint in between Yunho’s lips, staring straight into his eyes as Yunho inhales. When Yunho takes the joint out from between his lips, he cradles San’s chin with his forefinger and thumb, gently urging his mouth open before exhaling the smoke into it. San closes his eyes and welcomes the smoke, feeling its warmth pool in his mouth and lungs before exhaling himself and connecting their lips.

“Fuck,” Mingi mumbles, plucking the joint out of Yunho’s fingers and sticking it in his mouth, taking a hit for himself. Without warning, he practically inserts himself between the two and blows his smoke, only to have the two of them inhale it. San actually pulls him in by his shoulder, welcoming Mingi’s tongue into the mix of their own.

Wooyoung watches them with a lustful twist in his gut, but he figures that all eight of them will probably end up in a pile anyway, so he turns his attention back to Yeosang, who has fallen onto his back with his limbs outstretched in some position resembling a snow angel. He’s staring blankly at the ceiling, lips parted slightly. “You alright there, Yeo?” Wooyoung asks.

Yeosang blinks. “Blink twice if you can hear me,” Wooyoung instructs. He blinks twice. “Okay, good. He’s alive, guys.”

Jongho’s taken the bong while Hongjoong and Seonghwa share the joint, all of them seemingly occupied at the moment and unable to hear him. That, or they’re deliberately choosing to ignore him. He wouldn’t be surprised either way.

With Mingi being busy tongue-punching Yunho and San, Wooyoung snatches the joint loosely hanging from his fingers and takes a second hit. Clearly too busy to care all that much, Mingi casually slumps down from the sofa back onto the floor, where he crawls in Wooyoung’s direction and sticks his face right next to Wooyoung’s cheek.

Wooyoung turns and blows the smoke in his face.

“That’s not how you shotgun, Wooyoungie,” Mingi snickers.

Rolling his eyes, Wooyoung takes another hit to prove a point, grabbing the back of Mingi’s neck with his free hand and pulling him in, their lips mere centimeters from each other as Wooyoung exhales slowly. Mingi, in all his horny glory, sucks in all the smoke and proceeds to shove his tongue into Wooyoung’s mouth.

Whatever strain Mingi managed to get his hands on has them all pretty stoned within two hits with the exception of Yeosang, who’s practically incapacitated on the floor from just one bong hit.

“You ever shotgunned, Jongho-yah?” San asks.

“Nope.”

“Do you want to?”

Their youngest shrugs. “Sure, why not?”

“Yunho, you do it,” San suggests to the tallest, tilting his head in Jongho’s direction. “You’re the best at it.”

“It’s not really something to be ‘best’ at. It’s literally just blowing smoke into someone else’s mouth.” Still, Yunho slides off the sofa onto his hands and knees, settling for the bong while San and Wooyoung finish the two remaining joints.

San watches with some strange sense of pride. It’s so cute, how delicately Yunho handles their youngest’s cheeks as he lets the stream of smoke into his mouth. Yunho even seals their lips so tenderly, with a simple chaste peck, leaving a cheerful smile and rosy cheeks on Jongho’s face. As cute as it is, San smirks, knowing very well that Yunho can handle him much more roughly than that.

“Thanks, hyung. That was nice,” Jongho says.

“My pleasure.” Yunho resumes his position on the sofa where San is still smoking the joint. “Gimme.” And San has no issue relinquishing it.

Yunho takes what looks like the longest hit of the night (San is too lazy to count the seconds but it seems like it), and the smoke billows up in thick wisps and rings, a multitude of simultaneous tricks that nearly obscure his entire face before he flushes it all out in a thinner yet forceful trail of smoke. Soon enough, the joint will reduce to a nub, so San takes it swiftly after, taking advantage of the few more puffs he can savor.

He completely forgets that there’s one more joint Yunho rolled, but he feels sated enough.

“Mingi-yah, you did good. You did _really_ good,” San praises, ruffling Mingi’s hair as he’s got one hand thoughtlessly digging around a bag of chips. He’s not even _eating_ them. San chuckles. “Those chips feel good?”

Mingi simply hums, finally picking a single chip and inserting into his mouth, almost robotically, and chews idly. “Water,” he says, his mouth making no effort to disguise its obnoxious smacking.

San passes water out to everyone minus Yeosang, who’s probably not responsive enough to even drink. “Should we be concerned?” he asks Yunho, twisting the cap off the water bottle and taking a substantial gulp.

“Nah, he’s just vibing. One of my friends in high school ended up like that his first time too. Said it was both one of the scariest and best times of his life. He’ll come out of it eventually.”

Wooyoung’s poking at his side, where he’s most ticklish, and gets absolutely no response whatsoever. “Guys, he’s astral projecting.”

“Is he seeing God? Because I’m trying to be like that,” Jongho says.

“Take another bong hit or two and you probably will,” Yunho comments, proceeding to chug the entire bottle of water in one go.

“Bet. See you on the other side.”

All bark and no bite, apparently, because as if he’s forgotten his previous statement, Jongho settles beside the oldest and starts talking. What about, none of them know.

“This is some good shit, Mingi-yah. Good job.” San’s pretty sure he already said that, but he doesn’t care, and neither does Mingi, who’s still working on chewing the one chip he’s put in his mouth so far. Knowing him, he’ll snap out of it soon enough and devour the entire bag.

And San means. The entire. Bag.

He also likes to exaggerate when he’s stoned.

“How are you guys holding up?” Yunho asks in the oldests’ direction, only to discover that Hongjoong has curled up in a fetal position and fallen asleep, while Seonghwa is leaning up against one of the armrests of the sofa and gazing at whatever’s in front of him. The wall, it seems like. But it also could be their single houseplant that Seonghwa tries desperately to keep alive because nobody else does anything in this fucking house, or it could be a single chip of paint on the wall because he’s a stickler for detail even when he’s high, or it could just be he’s drowning in dreamland.

“Unh,” Seonghwa grunts. At least he’s responsive and sitting upright, San thinks.

“Hyung,” Jongho says, poking Seonghwa’s side. “How was your day?”

“Mm.”

“Good, good. Here, do you need help drinking your water?” Seonghwa nods, and Jongho twists the cap off, cradling Seonghwa’s chin as he dips the water into Seonghwa’s mouth. The oldest is able to gulp it down, though his eyes don’t move once. “There you go, good hyung.”

“This is so weird to watch,” Wooyoung says. “The youngest babying the oldest.”

“Are we really surprised, though? Seonghwa-hyung always gets like this when he’s high. He _needs_ to be babied because he just zones out the entire time,” Yunho says.

“At least he’s not Yeosang.” San’s eyes flick over to Yeosang’s incapacitated body. He’s breathing, but other than that, he looks like he’s basically dead, eyes and mouth barely cracked open. As concerned as San is, his brain is currently at war with his body, as his response to Yeosang’s out of body experience is to laugh.

And he can’t stop laughing.

“Oh my god, Yeosangiiie.” San appears next to Wooyoung, who’s still prodding at Yeosang’s side, and grabs Yeosang’s shoulders. “Waaake up! Wake up, wake up, wake up!” He bursts into another fit of giggles, which contagiously spreads to Wooyoung, and the two laugh at their poor, unresponsive best friend.

Just as San had predicted, Mingi eventually snaps himself out of his single chip-eating reverie and shovels chips by the handful into his mouth (his very _big_ mouth), covering his fingers in grease that he wipes on his pants because he doesn’t give a shit. None of them do. Other than Mingi’s distasteful chomping, there aren’t really any other sounds in the room. Well, besides Jongho rambling on about some inane topics right into Seonghwa’s ear, but nobody’s paying attention, probably not even Jongho himself.

San and Wooyoung attack Yeosang’s sides with wriggling fingers, but to no avail. Normally, Yeosang would be doubled over in laughter, but there’s nothing. Yeosang doesn’t even _twitch._ His eyes are barely open, mouth parted, and San can only imagine how dry his mouth is.

“Yeosang, blink if you can hear me,” San tries. His eyes barely tic. “Great, I’ll take it! He’s still alive, everyone!”

“He’s vibing so fucking hard,” Wooyoung says with a shrill chuckle. “That bong hit slapped him in the fucking face and now he has absolutely no choice but to _vibe_.”

“What does ‘vibe’ even mean in this context?” Jongho wonders aloud.

“He’s chilling. His body is in three dimensions over. He has no choice but to lay back and relax because he’s _vibing_ so fucking hard,” Wooyoung tells him.

Jongho nods consideringly even though Wooyoung’s response barely makes any sense in and of itself and basically just reiterated what he said before.

Yunho lets out a deep sigh, standing from the sofa and walking over to the window. He cracks it open, and as soon as the night breeze floods the room, he shamelessly strips himself of his shirt and tosses it haphazardly to the side. “Much better.”

“Are you _trying_ to get us riled up? Because it’s going to work,” San says as Yunho makes his way back to his designated spot on the sofa. “Well, probably won’t work on Yeosang, but I speak for the rest of us.”

“That depends,” Yunho says, a response that makes absolutely no sense in San’s faded mind, but then he spreads his legs, taking up the entire length of the couch cushion he’s sitting on, a goddamn open invitation if San’s ever seen one. “Depends on if anybody wants to.”

“Wants to what?” Mingi asks through a mouthful of chips. There’s probably a sizable mound of crumbs accumulating on the carpet that Seonghwa is going to kill them over once he comes down from his high, but again, none of them give a shit. Not even Seonghwa, especially at this present moment.

“Get riled up, I guess,” Yunho answers, probably unaware of his words and what they actually mean. He sighs and stares San down, who’s on his second bottle of water. “Well, Sannie? You look like you’re about ready to eat me up like Mingi’s doing to those chips.”

San glances at Wooyoung, who shrugs. “You want to?” he asks.

“Maybe,” Wooyoung says. “I’ll just watch for now.”

“Suit yourself.”

San spreads his legs over Yunho’s, straddling him for the second time as he leans in and connects their lips, tongues clashing impatiently with the tension they’ve built over the course of the night. It explodes in that moment, all of it, when San rips off his shirt and grinds down onto Yunho’s crotch, eliciting loud, animalistic groans from both of them.

“Hey, keep it down, I’m trying to bother Seonghwa-hyung!” Jongho says.

“No,” San says simply.

“Okay.” Jongho giggles and leans back into Seonghwa’s hear, continuing to whisper incoherent words while San goes back to attacking Yunho’s neck.

Yunho’s large hands grip San’s waist, the pads of his calloused fingers rough against his skin as he snakes his hand around to the middle of San’s back, blunt nails dragging downward until they disappear beneath the waistband of San’s jeans. Pulling him in harder, their crotches collide in friction, breaths heavy against one another as his fingers dig into the meat of San’s ass.

Now, the room is filled with breathy moans _and_ Mingi’s munching.

San trails kisses down Yunho’s lean torso, popping the button of his jeans and hastily lowering them down to his ankles. The outline of his cock, now prominent in his black briefs, has San’s mouth watering already as he leans in to mouth at it, pressing open-mouthed kisses as he rubs at the bulge. Head fuzzy, he tugs the underwear down until Yunho’s cock springs up and immediately runs his tongue along the side, lazily, as his mind clouds with nothing but the scent of Yunho’s cock. He doesn’t know what it is about it that’s driving him into it like this; no strain of weed has ever altered his senses like this.

He can’t help but moan as he licks up and down Yunho’s length, flattening his palm against the other side and moving it in time with his tongue. It’s so sloppy like this, but Yunho’s head is tilted back against the sofa’s head, bottom lip caught between his teeth as he tangles his slender fingers in San’s hair. “You look so good, Sannie,” he praises.

“You _taste_ so good,” San slurs, words garbled up as he mouths at Yunho’s cock.

“Heeey,” Wooyoung drawls, nudging San over, “I want in.”

“Be my guest, Wooyoungie,” Yunho says, his other hand coming up into Wooyoung’s hair as he guides him and his mouth onto his cock.

Both San and Wooyoung’s tongues swirl around Yunho’s length in a messy, almost lackadaisical fashion, but the sheer wetness and the enhancement of the senses has Yunho moaning anyway, not to mention it’s already incredibly arousing having two very attractive men licking his cock. With shameless smacking of their lips, San works his mouth around the head of Yunho’s cock while Wooyoung’s closes around the base, tongue flicking out as he slides his open, wet lips along the shaft.

“Having fun there?” Mingi asks, amused, as he seats himself beside Yunho and leans into his neck.

“Definitely,” Yunho responds, barely opening his eyes before Mingi tilts his chin towards him and kisses him.

He doesn’t know when Mingi started eating the Oreos but he certainly tastes like them. Perhaps he’d been too caught up in the moment to notice. Whatever the case, Yunho releases his grip on San’s hair and sneaks his hand between Mingi’s thighs, squeezing the insides.

“Fuck,” Mingi gasps as he pulls away, “you know I’m sensitive there.” Yunho just squeezes harder in response, his experienced fingers sliding into Mingi’s sweatpants and wrapping around his hardening cock.

With his lips still locked with Yunho’s, Mingi slides both his sweatpants and underwear down while Yunho strokes him lazily.

Yunho’s senses are going haywire, with Mingi’s tongue circling the inside of his mouth, San and Wooyoung’s tongues working his cock to milk him for all he’s worth, the hot, heavy weight of Mingi’s massive cock in his hand… all of it, combined with the fact that whatever strain Mingi got them has heightened his senses to the point of deliriousness, makes for a quick orgasm, with only a moan swallowed up by Mingi’s mouth as a warning.

San and Wooyoung don’t seem to mind at all, however, as his come splashes between their lips. Some dribbles down their chins as their tongues flick over the head in an attempt to catch every drop that spurts out. And if that wasn’t enough, Mingi attaches his lips to one of Yunho’s nipples, causing him to buck his hips up as a reflex as he keens, the slickness of San and Wooyoung’s mouths still present on his cock.

“Fucking _shit_ ,” Yunho moans, glancing down at San and Wooyoung, whose tongues are dancing around in each other’s mouths and sharing Yunho’s come between them.

Completely spent, Yunho releases Mingi’s cock, and his body unwinds so much that he feels like it’s merging with the sofa. With drooping eyelids, he watches as San hops back onto the couch and pounces onto Mingi with Wooyoung following suit. Those horny little devils.

San and Wooyoung finally release themselves from their pants, both already painfully hard from what Yunho can see. San, who apparently gets first dibs on everything, ruts his cock against Mingi’s while Mingi wraps his hand around Wooyoung’s, thumb prodding the tip and stretching the precome.

San doesn’t know what about this weed is making them like this, but just a few slick slides against Mingi’s cock and he’s already so fucking close. He’s been leaking a _lot_ just from blowing Yunho, and with his breaths weighty against Mingi’s, there are fucking _tears_ in his eyes when he comes, feeling as if the smoke is in his eyes as he’s blinded by the overwhelming rush of ecstasy from his orgasm.

Mingi’s the next to come, his teeth biting down hard into his bottom lip as San jerks him off to completion, coating both of their torsos in another layer of come. And Wooyoung, on the other hand, comes with absolutely no warning and doesn’t even _try_ to not get it on the sofa. Again, Seonghwa is probably going to kill them, but none of them care, _especially_ in this post-orgasmic high.

The ninety-nines are all collapsed onto their backs, Yeosang and Wooyoung on the floor and San, Mingi, and Yunho on the sofa. All the while, the remaining three members haven’t moved an inch, and apparently, Jongho hasn’t stopped talking either.

“I’ll go… clean up,” Wooyoung says after a few minutes, teetering as he stands up. He hobbles into the kitchen where he wets a few dishcloths, but on the way back, he stumbles straight into the corner of one of the counters with a loud thump and an angry, “Ow, _fuck_!”

“Damn bro,” Yeosang mumbles unexpectedly, from a couple meters away, “I felt that.”

Jongho snorts at that, which explodes into full-blown laughter, still aimed directly into Seonghwa’s ear. “He’s alive!”

“I… um. Hah.”

“But still having difficulty forming sentences,” Yunho says.

“You guys…” Seonghwa says under his breath. “You guys are so gross.”

“Guess we’re lucky you can’t move, huh?” San retaliates with a smirk.

Wooyoung eventually recuperates and wipes them all down, though the stickiness is still present beneath their clothes once they redress themselves (well, minus Yunho and his shirt).

“Hah… hah…” San doesn’t know if these are Yeosang’s attempts at breathing or communicating or both, but he’s definitely off his rocker.

“We can get you off too, hyung. If you want,” San offers in Seonghwa’s direction.

“No… thanks,” he replies, finally raising a limp hand to swat Jongho’s face away from his ear. “Somebody wake Hongjoong up, please.”

Jongho’s the one to take on the task, but it’s an easy feat, as a light shoulder shake is enough to have Hongjoong jolting up and shouting, “I’m up, I’m up! What happened?”

“Nothing, Seonghwa-hyung just asked me to wake you up,” Jongho tells him.

Hongjoong lets out an exasperated sigh, followed by a yawn, and crawls over to Seonghwa, resting his head on his lap. “I had a dream. Though I’m pretty sure it wasn’t actually a dream because from what I’m seeing, they’re all fucked out in real life, and I’m scarred from all the dicks I involuntarily saw in dreamland. Did you guys at least clean up?”

“Um… yeah,” Wooyoung says, sounding half sure. “I did.”

San suppresses the urge to snort because no, he didn’t clean entirely. His come is probably going to soak into the couch and serve as a permanent reminder of this night, and Seonghwa is going to add more stains. Bloodstains. After he kills them all, minus Hongjoong and maybe Yeosang.

“Is Yeosang conscious?” Hongjoong asks.

“Hah,” Yeosang says in response.

“Cool.”

“Anybody want Oreos?” Mingi offers, having slid back onto the floor to retrieve the pack. When San looks around, there’s no trace of the chip bag in sight, but he doesn’t have the patience to dwell on it because fuck, he is actually really hungry.

All of them minus Yeosang and Jongho take Mingi up on the offer, and the package of Oreos is gone within literal seconds.

Hongjoong, now awake and sort of alert, secures his place on Seonghwa’s lap and slides his tongue into the oldest’s mouth. “And he said _we_ were gross,” Wooyoung comments offhandedly.

“You kids had your fun,” Hongjoong says.

So they let the oldest members have their own fun, considering Seonghwa is probably going to murder them all in cold blood in the morning anyway. All the while, the rest of them huddle around Yeosang’s body, still immobile, but at least he’s blinking and making noises.

San places his hand in Yeosang’s. “Yeosang, squeeze once for yes and twice for no. Are you okay?” Yeosang squeezes once, albeit pretty weakly, along with an ‘unh’ sound. “Are you mad at us?” Two squeezes. “Would you want to do this again?” One squeeze. The circle bursts into laughter, and Yeosang has enough consciousness to let out a faint one.

A few minutes tick by. Maybe an hour or two. San likes to call this the post-orgasmic high _high_ , because he’s high on top of high, cognizance tank on empty, and he might as well be on the floor with Yeosang, completely unresponsive.

He sort of ends up that way, along with Wooyoung, as the two cuddle up to Yeosang’s sides and sling their arms over his chest to lace their fingers together. As tired as he is, his eyes refuse to shut all the way and are instead fixed on Wooyoung and the single strand of hair on his head that’s out of place. He would reach over to fix it, but it feels like the devil has his claws gripped around his limbs and is trying to pull him down to hell. So he ignores it, just like he ignores the sounds of Hongjoong and Seonghwa’s lips smacking together.

Mingi’s long body ends up stretching across the entire fucking sofa, with his back arched over Yunho’s lap. Yunho manspreads (again) like it’s nobody’s business, and Jongho gets stuck under the coffee table somehow and can’t stop giggling.

With sluggish eyes, San looks at their youngest, who has his hands wrapped around the legs of the coffee table like he’s trapped in a prison cell or something, and that’s when he remembers.

They still have one more joint left, and the cannabis in the bong's bowl is nowhere near finished.

**Author's Note:**

> yeosang weed
> 
> i was pretty lazy with this one so sorry if it's shit lol
> 
> come find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/galaxysangs)!


End file.
